


Year Six

by LoosenYourCorset



Series: Ten Years Drabbles [7]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Babies, I promise, M/M, Marriage, Schmoop, and I love writing this series I really do, it's just setting up for the next chapter, the ending is not as ominous as it sounds, this is by far the longest chapter in this series so far btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoosenYourCorset/pseuds/LoosenYourCorset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly detailed look into the first year of life for Bronx Wentz, and Pete & Patrick as parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Year Six

**Author's Note:**

> It's been almost a literal year since I posted, my apologies. I hope this will help you all to forgive me for that!

Having a baby in the house was about as easy and simple as it sounded, in that it wasn't simple or easy at all - but Pete and Patrick both enjoyed it.

The first night, the baby didn't make a peep past 10 p.m. when they put him to bed. That worried Patrick, and Pete got out of bed to go looking for him only to find him leaning over Bronx's crib with a small smile on his face. It was the first in a string of nights - six to be exact - that Bronx didn't cry during the night, and Patrick had to go and check on him.

By the end of Bronx's first month, he was a more normal baby. He howled at three a.m., the pacifier constantly fell out of his mouth, and Pete had to practice diapering on an old baby doll before he really got the hang of it.

They fell into a routine around the the third month of Bronx's so-far short life. They alternated getting up with him for his three a.m. feedings, though occasionally they found it hard to sleep without the other one in the bed and would join them in the nursery to coo and cuddle at the baby while he ate.

Bronx was just as blond and blue-eyed as his birth mother, and the two happy parents promised to tell him about the whole adoption process when he was old enough. Besides, he would realize he was adopted at some point anyway, right? Neither of them had a uterus, as it were. Patrick decided to let Pete take the name dad, since he was older (though not necessarily wiser). He took papa instead, thinking it was cute and fitting.

Around month six, Pete went back to work full-time instead of just part time. They would need all the money they could get, though they hadn't nearly blown through all of the inheritance from Eddy yet. Still, they wanted Bronx to have whatever he might need in the future, and one sunny Tuesday afternoon they made their way to the bank and set up a fund for him. It was for college or a career or anything Bronx wanted it to be for, to be given to him on his eighteenth birthday as a gift. Patrick and Pete both considered it to be a sound investment.

Now that Pete wasn't home for most of the day every day, Patrick had baby duty all on his own. He was fine with that. His dream had always been to be a stay at home father, and now here he was. Still, some days as he sat on the couch, baby Bronx nestled sleeping or giggling in his arms, he found it hard to believe how perfect everything was going. They had started out their marriage with barely nothing but stuck with out. Now they had a cute house and an even cuter baby (probably the cutest baby on the whole block, Patrick sometimes said at dinner; Pete didn't disagree with him).

It was only two months later that Pete and Patrick were sitting on their living room floor. Patrick had Bronx stood up in front of him, holding him up but just a little bit; Bronx was doing most of the standing work himself.

"Go on, little bear. Walk to daddy," Patrick encouraged the small boy, a wide smile on his face as Bronx began to step forward.

The little boy toddled halfway toward Pete before falling back onto his bottom. A rough start, but a good one nonetheless. He didn't cry though, and Patrick praised him for being so brave.

"Come here, kiddo, come on. You can do it," Pete said, Bronx doing the most to get back on his feet. When he did, Patrick clapped. The boy quickly stepped the two steps he needed to in order to reach Pete, falling into his chest with a dull thud, and Pete laughed and wrapped his arms around him. "That's my boy!" he beamed, peppering kisses all over Bronx's chubby little cheeks, prompting giggles and a somewhat toothless grin (he had gotten his first tooth about a month ago, in fact).

They did the exercise for about ten minutes more, coaxing Bronx gently and proudly to walk back and forth the few feet between them. He got the hang of it sooner rather than later, and within three more months he was toddling around the house following his parents as if he were in a race.

The twelfth month came and Patrick went all out for a birthday party. He sent personal invitations to every home in their neighborhood, and Pete invited his employees from work. Both of their families came, and Bronx was excited to see all four aunts and uncles, plus four grandparents. Many people from the block came to give him presents and warm wishes for another year of life, and when it came time for cake it was the first time Bronx had ever even had it.

Pete, always the messy one, allowed Bronx to smash his tiny hands right into the frosting while Patrick recorded the whole ordeal on his cell phone. The baby laughed with delight, but the icing ended up in his hair, on his face, somehow even on his feet - but Patrick wasn't even going to ask how that one happened. They took turns feeding Bronx little bits of cake and a couple of small spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream, and by the end of the day the one year old was all tuckered out.

At the beginning of their marriage, Pete and Patrick hadn't foreseen a baby. In their early financial situation it wasn't a possibility, though they did desire to have one. The icing on their very own metaphorical cake was that they wouldn't have asked for their lives to be going any other way, or to have started off any other way. They were perfectly content...weren't they?


End file.
